A Week in the Life
by Kasey
Summary: A week in the life of Zechs, prewar. Humor of the sweatdrop variety.


Please forgive the formatting, at least for a while, until I figure out how to get it right. I'm new at this, okay?  
  
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a Gundam Wing challenge fanfiction  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the pictures in my head.  
  
Warning: humor. incompetance. this fic falls into my personal and exclusive category of *sweatdrop*. this is pre-war Zechs. Pity him.  
  
Kindly do not archive this *anywhere*. Comments, reviews, critiques, and questions are appreciated. Thank you!  
  
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"A Week in the Life"  
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I suppose you're wondering why I'm sitting here, alone, in my room.  
  
Looking like this.  
  
I don't really want to talk about it.  
  
Here's my personal log from last week.  
  
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Monday, June 7:  
  
I've been commissioned to go to the Florida peninsula to check on the latest mobile suit, the Pisces. The Leo works very well on the land, but orders have come in to prepare for sea battle. I don't know why the preparations must be made. I don't know when we will need to use the Pisces. I'm a soldier. I don't ask questions, I just do my job.  
  
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Tuesday, June 8:  
  
0600: Well, the Federation has done it again. My bags are in Borneo. I'm in Alaska. Diplomatically put, this weather sucks.  
  
1900: I have rejoined my bags. The bus I am on is currently on the way to a children's theater. I must talk with his Excellency about improving the road maps I am given. I am surrounded by midgets. There is a peanut-butter sandwich in my hair.  
  
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Wednesday, June 9:  
I'm finally getting close to the Florida peninsula. There was an short stop in Korea, and the shuttle plane I took to Oslo ran out of fuel over Moscow. Cape Cod is nice this time of year, but the docks leave much to be desired.  
  
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Thursday, June 10:  
  
I've made it to the Florida peninsula. After a stop in Mexico. Don't eat the lettuce. It's late, and I want to get to a nice, air-conditioned hotel and hit the sack. Instead, I'm on a Federation bus, going hundreds of miles cross country. I asked for a shuttle, but the last one had already left; apparently the Commander of the base I had stopped at had a promise to keep to his wife. Something about a birthday. Guess I can't blame him.  
  
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Friday, June 11:  
  
0500: Reached the Pisces base. I've got an appointment to meet with Commander Wilson at 0700. No nap for me. I'll go eat breakfast. It's going to be a hot day.  
  
1200: People are laughing at me as I eat my lunch. For once in my life, I don't mind this mask in hot weather. I would surely be mortified if people could see my face. The blue paint doesn't help much, either. For camouflage purposes, the Pisces are to be painted blue. I should have listened to Wilson's warnings about their new technician, Private Dial. Lucky me to be standing in the way when she shifted the wrong lever on the forklift. I got an entire Pisces-worth of blue paint all over me. I must speak with his Excellency about the technical and mechanical requirements for hiring technicians.  
  
1600: Private "Calamity" Dial strikes again. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be a top officer. Especially when the Federation is hiring teeny-boppers for technicians. I shouldn't complain. It wasn't her fault. She was trying to apologize, and I just happened to be standing next to the generator. Treize would laugh if he could see me, now. We used to pull pranks by having some unfortunate soul place both of their hands on a generator, and we would laugh when their hair stood on end. He wasn't too happy when Lady Une picked up the generator, that once, though. I suppose what goes around, comes around. I am blue from my nose to my toes, and my hair is trying to imitate a dandelion gone to seed.  
  
I look like a defrazzled smurf.  
  
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Now do you understand?  
  
At least I've had a chance to take a shower.  
But you know what really bothers me?  
  
His Excellency, Treize, heard about my "unfortunate" accidents.  
  
He's on his way here.  
  
Private "Calamity" Dial heard that Treize is coming, and that it has something to do with her.  
  
Now she's knocking on my door, trying to thank me for getting her a promotion.  
  
Promotion? I don't think so.  
  
What I want to know is...  
  
How can I get out of here? 


End file.
